


Add some chocolate, enjoy

by sleepymoon



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Implied Mpreg, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant!Spock, Space Husbands, Vulcans and Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 14:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymoon/pseuds/sleepymoon
Summary: “No,”says Spock, with a tone of finality. Jim huffs, closing in and rubbing their noses together.“Aw, come on, you're no fun. Don't you remember what happened last time you had one of those?”Jim can't see his bondmate all too well in the dimmed lights of the club, but he's fairly certain that Spock's ears are now suffused with dark green, blood roaring to the surface like it always does on the rare occasions he manages to make the Vulcan blush.“Yes, I remember... what transpired.”Jim keeps grinning, seems unable to stop.“Yeah, me too. That nightwasa lot of fun.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [VeraBAdler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeraBAdler). (Thank you! ♡)

 

James Kirk isn't ashamed to admit that he may have had to pull a few tactical strings (“I'm the Federation's Golden Boy, Captain of the USS Enterprise, best vessel of the whole Fleet” kind of strings) to grant his crew mates a week's full access to one of the most exclusive clubs in Risa's entire orbit, its two moons included. After all, he figures, the successful conclusion of yet another mission calls for celebrations, and his crew certainly deserves some time to unwind a little and enjoy their shore leave in the company of friends, family and significant others. Coincidentally, today also happens to be Kirk's thirty-fifth birthday, and this fact only seems to boost everyone's festive, relaxed mood.

At first, Spock had been inclined towards staying aboard the ship to watch over Nirim so that Jim could still go celebrate with the others. Jim wouldn't hear any of it, though. (“Either we're both going or neither of us is,” he had declared in his patented Captain voice).

Spock had finally caved and agreed to join them for a short while, which had meant bringing their son along too.

The bridge crew had managed to secure a private booth in a more tranquil area of the club, far from the chaos of the dance floor, although even there the music is pumping loudly from the speakers hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully, the little Vulcan doesn't appear at all bothered by it, because he's snuggled up in his child seat and softly snoring away, a light blanket draped over him. Most importantly, his tiny, delicate pointy ears are protected from all the clamor by a pair of noise-canceling headphones.

One elbow perched on top of the bar's counter, Jim looks back over his shoulder towards their table, where he sees Nyota's got one of her fingers clasped into Nirim's fist. She's talking with Spock, who's sitting on the baby's other side and listening intently to whatever she's saying.

Scotty and Bones are there too, conversing animatedly, and the last time Jim saw Sulu and Chekov they were busy competing on the dance floor, trying to see who could come up with the most preposterous moves.

Jim smiles, feeling deep, genuine affection for all of them bubble up in his gut.

He turns around and scans the hologram above his head displaying the numerous drinks options.

“Can I get three more rounds of Saurian brandy for my table... um, a red Risa sunset, a Risan mai-tai, two Cardassian sunrises... oh, and do you happen to have any spice tea other than Jestral and Mareuvian tea? Any chance you've got something from New Vulcan, maybe?”

“We have Vulcan spice tea, yes.”

“Really? That's great! One of those then, thank you.”

The bartender trains her eyes (all six of them) onto him, appraisingly, gives him a flirtatious grin.

“No problem, I'll send them over to your table right away. My shift's over in twenty minutes, by the way. We could have some fun, dance a couple songs,” she adds in a suggestive tone.

“Look, I'm flattered, I really am, but I'm also very much spoken for. Wait a second, here.” He fishes a hand into his pants' front pocket and then holds up a small photograph, a close up of Spock holding a barely-one-hour-old Nirim in his arms. “That's my husband with our son.” He looks down at the picture, a fond, goofy smile stretching his lips. When he raises his eyes again, he notices the girl has already moved on to serve another client.

“Okay, _that,”_ drawls Sulu, appearing at his side out of nowhere and slinging an arm across his shoulders, “was _really_ pathetic. Even I wasn't that bad when Demora was little.”

“Excuse me?! You were _the worst_. Remember those fliers you made for her first birthday party? They were everywhere! Literally. The Enterprise was bursting with them.”

“They were a work of art! Ben and I spent weeks preparing them!”

Jim just raises his eyebrows emphatically, then starts laughing.

“Okay, fine,” Sulu relents, “Maybe I was the worst. But you ain't much better.”

Jim throws another glance at the picture he's still holding in his hand. “Yeah, no, I know.”

Together they wade their way through the crowd until they reach their group. The drinks he ordered have already been served, and Kirk gulps down a shot of Saurian brandy, which burns pleasantly down his throat. “Whoa. I think I'm gonna hit the dance floor. And you, mister,” he adds, holding out a hand towards Spock, “you're coming to dance with me.”

The Vulcan, for a split second, looks up at him with an almost befuddled expression before quickly schooling his features again.

“I believe not, Jim.”

“It's a direct order from your Captain. Come on, come on up.”

“We are off duty.”

“ _Spock.”_

“You know I am an abysmal dancer, Jim, I-”

Kirk rolls his eyes, practically diving across the table to grasp Spock's wrist and pull him upright.

“Okay, first of all, that's not even true. But we don't even have to dance, we can just grind against each other and scandalize Bones a little.”

“ _Ew,_ Jim! I'm gonna need to be a lot more drunk than this to be okay with seeing that!” McCoy protests with a grimace.

It takes some more encouragements, but Kirk eventually manages to drag a very reluctant Vulcan up on the dance floor. Once there, he slings both arms behind Spock's neck and draws him as close as their chests can go, hips swinging to the slow, deep, pulsing beats of the song.

Spock closes his hands around Jim's hips and hides his face in the crook of Jim's shoulder.

He's not a fan of places like this; everything is too loud and crowded. It makes him feel vaguely claustrophobic, but Jim's presence alone is enough to sooth and mitigate his discomfort. His body follows Jim's instinctively, mimics his moves. And then they're dancing, Jim holding him close, his mouth pressed against his hair, grounding him firmly in the moment.

Nevertheless, every few minutes, Spock can't refrain from glancing in the direction of their group of friends.

“He's _fine_ ,” Kirk says in his ear, rubbing his back soothingly, obviously having followed the trajectory of his gaze, “He's sound asleep, under constant supervision. You can stop worrying so much.”

Spock nods minutely, appeased, his hand searching Jim's to steal a light Vulcan kiss.

“You know, I did order you some spiced tea like you asked me to, but guess what they have on the menu as well? _Hot chocolate spiked with Andorian ale!”_ Kirk exclaims gleefully. “A real treat, don't you think?”

The Vulcan draws back, giving him one of his pointed looks. Jim's grin crackles with amusement.

“ _No,”_ says Spock, with a tone of finality. Jim huffs, closing in and rubbing their noses together.

“Aw, come on, you're no fun. Don't you remember what happened last time you had one of those?”

Jim can't see his bondmate all too well in the dimmed lights of the club, but he's fairly certain that Spock's ears are now suffused with dark green, blood roaring to the surface like it always does on the rare occasions he manages to make the Vulcan blush.

“Yes, I remember... what transpired.”

Jim keeps grinning, seems unable to stop.

“Yeah, me too. That night _was_ a lot of fun.”

Spock does tend to find Jim's bubbling mirth endearing, even infectious, yet sometimes he finds himself wishing his lover would take less of a perverse pleasure in teasing him so mercilessly.

“In fact,” Jim continues, undeterred, “I'm pretty sure it was just that night that we conceived-”

“I believe I will be perfectly content with my tea, thank you, Jim,” Spock rushes to interrupt him.

“Aw, but why? Ashayam, have some hot chocolate!” Kirk wiggles his eyebrows comically, snickering. “Shouldn't we give Nirim a little brother or sister?”

“You seem to be operating under the misconception that I am above nerve pinching my own bondmate. I assure you, that is not the case.”

At that, Jim throws his head back with a loud, delighted laugh.

“God, I love you,” he exhales a little dazedly, staring into Spock's eyes before pecking him lightly on the lips. “Hey, you wanna beam back on the ship? I don't mind, you know, we can go. I don't want you to get too uncomfortable.”

“There is no need. I am adequate.”

“Yeah, see, _adequate_ ain't good enough in my book. I want you to have _fun!”_

Spock directs him a meaningful look and Kirk finally relents, flashing an exasperated grin.

As they leave the dance floor to return to the booth, Nyota waves them over with a broad smile.

Spock slides in the seat next to her and is relieved to see that Nirim is still asleep. He takes a sample of his tea, surprised to discover the flavor of it is so achingly familiar. New Vulcan products are rare to come by and extremely expensive, yet Jim had chosen to get the tea for him anyway. Sometimes Spock has trouble believing how deeply thoughtful his bondmate can be, can't quite reconcile him with the brash, arrogant young man who cheated his way through the infamous Kobayashi Maru test only ten years before.

The music is still too loud for his comfort, and he can only hope such prolonged exposure won't result in a migraine the following morning. He notices, out of the corner of his eye, that McCoy, Scotty, and Chekov have combined their efforts to rope Jim into playing a round of cards with them at a nearby table of fellow engineering officers. Spock keeps placidly sipping his beverage, only half listening to the conversation of Nyota and her Orion friend, Gaila, who had joined them at their table.

“So, Spock,” Nyota says, turning her attention back towards him, “what did you get Jim for his birthday?”

Spock puts down his tea, clears his throat. “A collection of ancient Terran poems.”

While Vulcan culture generally regards the exchange of birthday presents as a somewhat illogical practice, Spock had actually gone out of his way to acquire this particularly rare edition for Jim, who harbors a pronounced fondness for archaic poetry.

“A book isn't exactly a sexy gift, though, is it? If it had been up to me, I'd have gone with something a little more... stimulating...” remarks Gaila as she stirs the liquid in her glass with the straw.

“Gaila!” Uhura exclaims in reproach.

Spock knows that Orions have no qualms whatsoever about speaking of sexual matters, yet he finds he doesn't particularly care for the reminder that Jim and this woman had once been intimate.

He tightens his grip around his cup of tea slightly.

“Jim is going to love your gift, don't listen to her,” Nyota reassures him.

Gaila shrugs, unbothered. “I meant no disrespect!” she amends. “But Jim, he just _loves_ sex, you know? You wanna give him a present? That's what you gotta do. Don't you want to keep him happy, Commander?”

It would be very unprofessional, Spock reasons, to nerve pinch a fellow ship officer. He also knows that, despite her complete lack of filters, the girl means well.

“I am not going to discuss such personal matters with other crew officers,” he states dryly.

After all, his and Jim's sex life is by no means dull or scarce. On average, they make love no less than three times a week. Granted, Nirim's arrival had slightly decreased the frequency of their encounters. Their son is almost two years old and still needs their constant presence and guidance. Jim understands this, of course.

“Gaila, you're being inappropriate. Plus, Jim is a different man. He changed, grew up. He's a dad now! You should see him with Nirim, he loves his kid with everything he has.”

The Orion girl rolls her eyes, waves her hands in emphasis. “Yeeah. Exactly my point! He's such a great dad and husband, right? So why don't you reward him, mmh? And I don't mean with a _book.”_

“Hey, I love this song! Come dance with me, Gaila!” exclaims Nyota, throwing an apologetic look at Spock as she catches Gaila under her forearm and pulls her up on her feet with her.

Spock prudently decides to push this conversation to the back of his mind for now. He lifts Nirim's warm body against his chest and starts to leave. Jim is still playing poker at the nearby table but when he sees Spock moving towards the exit, he's reaching him in mere moments.

“You're going?”

“Yes, but please stay. It is your party.”

“Yeah, but I don't want to leave you. They'll understand.”

“Nonsense. Celebrate with our friends.”

Kirk leans in to kiss the crown of Nirim's head, brushes his fingers against Spock's.

“Okay, then. I'll be be back soon, though.”

Spock beams back aboard the ship, enters the turbolift and walks the remaining distance to his quarters. As he keys in the access code, Nirim stirs against his chest with a soft whimper. Spock gets in, spends a few minutes calming down his son, feeds him, and gets him ready for bed. He lets him tire himself out and then gathers him close, humming a human lullaby that his mother used to sing to him when he was about Nirim's age. After making sure his little one is fast asleep, he retrieves Jim's gift from its hiding place and puts it on display on top of Jim's desk.

He knows, logically, that Jim is going to like it. Nevertheless, Gaila's words still echo in his head.

Most of the time, it's true, it is Jim that initiates sex.

Spock enjoys their intimacy as much as Jim does, but often he is at a loss when it comes to... setting the mood, as Jim would say. He isn't well versed in the subtle art of seduction - something that, on the other hand, seems to come as easy as breathing to Jim.

Jim is a tactile creature, loves to be around people, and tends to be led by his emotions and gut feelings. Spock doesn't doubt the depths of Jim's love, nor his passion, much less his devotion. He can feel them as clear as if they were his own whenever they meld their minds, after all.

Jim will be happy for the book, but perhaps he'd be... happier, if Spock were the one to take a more physical approach for once. In fact, it has now been one week and four days since the last time they shared any intimate moment. Jim hasn't voiced any indication that this is bothering him, and yet...

Perhaps Gaila has a point, all things considered. He _does_ want to make Jim happy.

Spock goes to stand in front of the food replicator on the far wall.

He stares at it for a long minute, fingers hovering over the control panel, then quickly punches in the order before he can think better of it.

 

*

 

 

When Kirk enters their shared quarters one hour later, he's greeted by the lights at 30% and some meditation candles burning on the floor, casting tremulous shadows on the objects in the room.

Spock is waiting for him reclined on their bed, naked except for the robe he's wearing, which has slipped down one shoulder leaving the skin there exposed. There are two empty glasses on the floor next to the bed and two splotches of dark green across the Vulcan's cheeks, which likely mean that Spock is either very embarrassed or more than a little tipsy.

“ _Holy shit,”_ the Captain whispers, softly but with a lot of feeling, as he takes another step in the direction of his lover. Spock's head lulls towards him on the sheets, a timid smile peeking at his lips.

“Happy birthday, Jim,” he murmurs in a quiet, fond voice.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Kirk answers with a soft chuckle, tugging off his boots and then shrugging out of his shirt as he approaches; he rolls his shoulders, stretches his neck, much like a lion ready to pounce. “Happy birthday to me.”

He comes to stand at the edge of the bed and looks down, openly feasting his eyes on the alluring sight.

“What are you doing, t'hy'la?”

Spock shivers visibly at the endearment.

“I'm seducing you,” the Vulcan whispers, like it's a secret. “Is it working?”

Jim leans over him and grabs a hold of the back of his knees, yanking him towards him on the sheets until he can wrap Spock's legs around his waist. Spock lets out a small sound that might even be considered a _giggle,_ reaching out with clumsy hands to help his mate out of his clothes, and Jim starts feeling a bit lightheaded himself with the alcohol he drank earlier and his mounting arousal.

When Kirk kisses him, Spock tastes like rich, spicy dark chocolate.

“Well, mister Spock, consider me thoroughly seduced.”

 

*

 

 

Ten months later little Nirim gets a sister, T'Len, _and_ a brother, Myr.

 

“Perhaps,” says Jim in a murmur, looking down into the dark, dark eyes of his newborn daughter and tracing the tiny bow of her upper lip with a gentle finger, “Perhaps we should keep you away from chocolate from now on. Don't get me wrong, k'diwa, I'm ecstatic to be a dad again, and we make really pretty babies. Like, the prettiest. But we've also got a ship to run, you know.”

The Vulcan levels his bondmate with an unimpressed stare.

“While I'm quite certain that imbibing chocolate does not have any direct correlation with my fertility rate, it might be a wise course of action, for the time being, to avoid another pregnancy,” concedes Spock, lowering the crook of his elbow where Myr's head is resting so Nirim can get a better look at his brother's scrunched-up face. A small frown creases the boy's forehead, much like the one Spock was prone to get when faced with a particularly challenging formula. After some time, though, he seems to reach a satisfying conclusion and finally reaches out, touching one of Myr's tiny hands clenched into loose fists.

“That's good, isn't it?” murmurs Jim with a smile as he observes the siblings' interaction, “I was worried we'd have to deal with a jealousy fit or something. Although, now that I think about it, Vulcan babies would probably find that too illogical...” he concludes, grinning cheekily.

Spock throws him another one of his looks, that Jim easily interprets as meaning _“I will ignore you and your illogical ass for the sake of preserving my own precious logic.”_

“He needs a haircut,” notes Spock, combing his fingers through Nirim's black locks.

“Your bowl cut won't really work on him, you know. He's got curly hair.”

“He still needs a haircut, nevertheless,” Spock insists haughtily.

“Okay, fine. I'll ask Scotty tomorrow. Do I get a kiss now?”

“I don't know. Do you deserve one?”

Kirk pouts. “Yeah! I do!”

Spock doesn't quite smile, but it's a close thing. “Very well.”

He offers up his left hand, only his index and middle fingers held out close together.

They're both surprised when Nirim looks up wide-eyed at his father and promptly copies the gesture, holding up his own fingers for Jim as well. Jim laughs, delighted, and touches the pads of his fingers to Nirim's ones.

“Sorry, ashal-veh. I ran out of hands. I'll collect that kiss later tonight, though.”

Spock does smile, this time, soft and private and all for Jim. “I'll look forward to it.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> And that's how baby number four came along! Haha, I'm kidding. ~~Maybe.~~
> 
> Basically, in this universe the families of crew officers are allowed to stay on the ship with them. I know it's something that happens in TNG, so let's pretend it's doable on the Enterprise too.
> 
> As you all probably noticed, I have a thing for Jim using Vulcan endearments with Spock. *blush*


End file.
